Shattered Past
by Wingleader Sora Jade
Summary: Duo sits in a hospital waiting room and has plenty of time to think about his past, who he is... And his future. Slight DMxHS.


Shattered Past 

by WSJ 

I was inspired to write this after reading a story called _Black Death_ by Elf. You can find it in the fanfiction section of www.yaoijanai.com. It's a really moving story about Duo's past and I highly recomend you read it. *mock-frowns* It made me cry... 

I don't own Gundam Wing. 

()()()()() 

I wake up to hear you screaming and thrashing around in bed next to me. As I try to sit up you smack me in the head with your arm. It's ok, I know you didn't mean to. 

I take one look at your pale, drawn face and I instantly know what's wrong. Or rather, I instantly know what's right. 

Jumping up, I pull on a t-shirt and jeans over my boxers and shove my feet into some boots, not even stopping to do my hair or even put on socks. I haul you out of bed and help you into a sundress, one of the easiest things to put on in a time like this. 

You sit on the bed, your breath coming in gasps as I kneel at your feet and help to buckle on your sandles. 

Strength comes from who-knows-where as you scream again, and I manage to pick you up and carry you downstairs. I open the door, somehow managing to keep you in my arms, and head out. Two seconds later I'm back inside, sprinting up the stairs to grab my cell phone and your over-night bag that we prepared for just this occation. 

In the car I fish my keys out of my pocket and start the car. I screech out of the driveway doing almost triple the speed limit and manage to turn on the power to my phone. 

On the highway I finish calling our friends, receiving several promises to be there as soon as possible. I chuck the cell into the backseat and reach over to squeeze your hand. You look at me gratefully, sweat pooring down your face, before quickly warning me that I had swerved into the oppisite lane and there was a truck headed our way. 

I pull us back into the correct lane and twenty minutes later we arrive at our destination. I pull you out of the car and again find the strength to carry you. 

Inside you're whisked away from me, nurses asuring me that you'll be just fine. I must have looked pretty strange to them, a man with long chesnut hair tangled into knots by the wind. 

I sit down in the waiting room and put my head into my hands. The others all live pretty far away, so I have plenty of time to sort out my thoughts on my own before they arrive. 

Impulsivly I reach up and my hand closes around the gold cross at my throat. What would Father Maxwell think if he could see me now? I wonder to myself. What would any of them think? 

Sister Helen would probably be sobbing her heart out at the beauty of it all, while Father Maxwell would just stand there soberly with a slight smile on his face. Solo would be proud. 

I smile saddly to myself as I think of them, absently running a hand through my tangled hair. I hadn't even stopped to braid it before rushing you out of the house. My hand moves back to my cross and I realise something, something I'd never thought of before. 

Everything I have, everything that stands for me, I got from one of them. My name, Duo Maxwell, from the fact that Solo and I were always together, and from the Maxwell Church. My cross, a gift from Father Maxwell. My hair, Sister Helen had braided it for me, and I'd kept it in memory of her. 

I'd lived a broken life, and it was because of them that my chilhood had _any_ happy memories at all. 

But of course, along with the good memories come the bad. 

I close my eyes and grip the cross tightly as the memories flood my view. Solo, golden eyes fading as he lay dying in my arms. Sister Helen, also dying, telling me how brave Father Maxwell had been, even to the end. Finding Father Maxwell himself, later, almost burned beyond recognition. 

Those three had been the most important people in my life, and they'd been taken away from me. Each had been taken to spare my own life. I smirk. What would have happened, if I had died in Maxwell Church with the rest of them? What if Solo had lived to pilot Deathscythe instead of me? 

An involentary chill shivers up my spine. I am Shinigami, god of death. Each of those I touch is taken from me. Death can get close to no one without claiming them for itself. 

What about you? 

Tears begin to fall down my cheeks as I hear your screams, screams of pain. Will you be lost too? Am I destined to always be alone? I have to live with the haunting knowledge that I have killed so many, and that so many have been killed because of me. Will you become just another causualty in my life with Death? 

I feel a hand on my shoulder and I look up to see Heero, his cobalt eyes showing concern. He speaks my name as a question, and I shake my head, shrugging him off. 

Even Heero. Will I one day loose him too, because he chanced to get close to Death? 

Why do you mock me? Why me? Why is it that it's always my loved ones who die? 

The cross bites painfully into my palm, bringing me back to reality. Yes, those I loved have died, but they are still with me. My name. Duo. Because Solo and I are _always_ together. Even now. 

I feel a hand on my shoulder again, and I look up. Heero and Relena are across the room, talking to a nurse. Quatre and Dorothy have just walked in, shedding coats as they come. So who... Of course. 

I smile as warm, golden eyes peer back into my own violet-blue ones. Past his shoulder I see Father Maxwell, his arm around Sister Helen's shoulders, who is indeed crying. 

But all good things must come to an end. My vision fades, and I am back in the cold, sterile waiting room. But something has changed. I still live with a shattered past, but my future can be whole. 

Oblivious to the looks I receive from staff and friends alike, I slide out of the hard plastic chair and onto my knees. Clutching the cross in my hands, I do something I haven't done in a long time. 

I pray. 

~*~ 

I am startled out of my tear-ridden confession to the Father by someone gently calling my name. I open my eyes to see a nurse bending over me. I smile. It's good to know that my heart is right with the Lord once again. 

'Mr Maxwell,' she says a bit hesitantly, not sure how to inturrupt a long-haired freak on his knees. 'Your wife is in a recovery room if you'd like to see her.' 

Would I?!? I jump up, shouting praises to God, while the other pilots desperatly pretend that they don't know me. The nurse leads me back towards the private rooms, and I enter the one she indicates to see... You. 

You look up, a smile parting your lips as you take in my rumpled, tear-stained, tangle-haired appearance. But all that doesn't matter anymore. 

I walk closer, and your smile widens. You shift slightly so that I can see the small bundle in your arms. 

"He's beautiful Hilde." I say. 

'Yes.' you answer. 'Beautiful brown hair, just like yours. But he has yet to open his eyes.' 

I point out that that wouldn't help much anyway, since almost all babies are born with blue eyes, and then they change to their true color later. 

You admit that I'm right, and ask if I want to hold him. I swallow, tears of joy in my eyes, and you place him in my arms. 

I'm a dad. I never, ever imagined this day would come, not even after we got married, you and I. 'What do we name him?' you ask. 

I'd forgotten about that. We'd wanted to 'meet' our baby before desiding on a name. "I'm not sure." I confess. 

My son reaches up a hand, and entwines it through my long hair. He giggles happily and his delecate features wrinkle into a smile. His eyes blink open, and my world instantly becomes so much brighter. A name sparks in my mind, and flies out my mouth before I can stop it, not that I'd want to. 

"Solo." I say. 

You look at me curiously, but don't question. After all, I'd never told you my past, so how would you know? 

I hear laughter, a giggle that doesn't belong to you or my son, and I look up to see an angel perched in the open window. An angel that I know very well. His golden eyes sparkle and he winks at me before turning to fly away. I look down into my own baby's gold eyes and a simple phrase, spoken across time and space by my best friend, resonates deep in my soul. 

_'I'm gonna come for you some day Duo.'_

I'll be waiting Solo. 

()()()()() 

What do you think? Like I said, I was inspired by _Black Death_ by Elf, and I reeeeally suggest you read it. 

Ja ne. 

God Bless. 


End file.
